Life's Worth
by Cap'n Morgan
Summary: Kenny develops depression without realizing what is even happening, and is in denial as he slowly begins to get worse. Craig, who had never taken interest in him before, notices something in Kenny that his friends don't. Craig eventually gets too involved in Kenny's issues. Rated M to be safe. Trigger warnings: suicide, self harm, depression, familial problems, and possibly more.
1. Another Ordinary Day

_**A/N: This chapter is short because it's mainly an introduction to the story to see if I would like to continue. I also didn't know where exactly to end it...**_

_**During editing, spell check would not stop giving me problems, so I fixed what I could then gave up. Please excuse the mistakes that you will probably find.**_

_**In case you didn't read the trigger warnings in the description, here they are: suicide, self harm, depression, familial issues, and other things I might add. With that said, you may continue.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park. It belongs to its original creators.**_

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><p>I jolted up in bed, coughing, feeling as if I'm suffocating. My body felt numb and I lifted my hands, turning them over a few times and pinching each of my arms just to know I'm alive.<p>

"What was it this time?" I mumbled to myself, already having forgotten why I died after being in Hell so long. After a few moments, it came back to me and I cringed. I killed myself.

I sighed, letting my weight fall down with a soft protest from my bed as I did so.

I glanced at the beat up clock beside my bed that read it was just past eleven in the morning, and reluctantly rolled out of bed. My knees buckled, but I caught myself on the corner of my nightstand. I always have hated the feeling of getting back into my body...

In all honesty, I would have preferred to stay in bed all day, but I promised to meet my friends that day. I knew I would just be an awkward fourth wheel to a tricycle, if that even makes any sense.

Since I always woke up in my ordinary parka and ripped jeans, for whatever reason that may be, I only needed to find a clean pair of socks and my worn down boots. Finding breakfast before everyone arrived in ten minutes would be the hardest part.

After I'd gotten my boots on, I trekked into the living room quietly, knowing my parents would be fast asleep on the couches. It was a maze as always. Broken bottles and various other noise-making things were scattered across the floor around my parents. My dad lay on the floor, snoring, and my mother was on the couch, arm hanging down, mouth open, emitting soft sounds.

I carefully avoided everything on the floor and hurried into the kitchen. I found a single package of expired Poptarts in the cupboard and milk that was starting to curdle in the fridge. Other than that, food was scarce. I sighed, figuring I should let my sister have whatever's left when she gets home from her friend's house. I could always bum money off my father while he's drunk so I could at least get a little bit of groceries.

I snuck past my parents once again, this time to leave the house as quietly as I could. The cold Colorado air bit at the skin on my face, causing me to shudder and pull up my hood, pulling the strings tight. It always has been a habit to do that, even if no one can understand me when it muffles my voice.

I squinted to see three figures in the distance, slowly approaching. I stepped off the porch and ran towards them, a stupid grin on my face masked by my hood.

"Hey guys," I said, panting softly.

"Well isn't someone excited to see a movie they can't afford," Eric remarked with a smirk. God, I wish I could just bash his face in, but I know he'd just break my bones. Sure, I have strength, but I'm scrawny and weak compared to him. He's fat, maybe three hundred pounds or so, but some of it is muscle. Not to mention he's like six feet tall whereas I'm only five foot eight, the shortest of my friends.

I always get the feeling Eric Cartman has convinced me that he has the potential to be a future murderer. Scratch that, he is a murderer. I can't even begin to count how many times he's killed me. In fact, everyone in my small town has killed me at least once.

"Don't be an ass, Cartman," Kyle said, elbowing his side, though it did no damage. Kyle is Jewish and people give him hell for it but I couldn't care less. He's got an average build, only a few inches taller than I am. Kyle is a fiery redhead who covers his mess of curls with a bright green ushanka that he's had since elementary school.

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Stan is always annoyed by something, whether it be Kyle and Cartman's constant bickering or just life in general. Typically, though, it's the former. Stan is only half an inch shorter than Kyle, and he's really thin.

I had to agree with Stan's reaction, though. Eric and Kyle have lived by the phrase "keep your friends close and your enemies closer" since Kindergarten.

"Guys, can we not have this fight here? We're going to miss the movie," I said.

"Well, we are. We all know you're just looking for an excuse to get away from home, Kenny," Eric said to me, briefly breaking his argument with Kyle.

I rolled my eyes. "Fuck you, I'm going on my own."

"You probably have herpes or something. Why would I want you to fuck me?" he retorted as I shoved past him.

I whirled around on my heel, punched him in the gut, and turned to walk away again. He coughed a few times, but didn't hit back, so I figured I sufficiently got my message through to him. God only know why I ever actually chose to call that asshole my friend.

After I was a safe distance away, I actually started wondering what the hell I was going to do since I didn't have money. I sighed and settled on going to the park.

Once I reached my destination, I sat down on a swing, the cold metal of the chains freezing my hands through my threadbare gloves. I ignored it, trying to recollect what exactly happened the night before.

I remember being in a bad mood, it happens a lot. Coincidentally, my parents were fighting and I couldn't stand it any longer. So, being so amazing at dying, I shot myself in the head, spent the night in Hell, and got revived by morning. I knew I was missing something, but what? I don't forget my own deaths so why does it feel like I have forgotten crucial information.

I sighed, my breath clouding around me. It was quiet for an afternoon in my town, a little too quiet.

As expected, something disturbed the silence. Footsteps crunching snow. I twisted the chain of the swing so I could turn to see who it was. To my surprise, it was none other than Craig Tucker.

My friends and I used to have this huge rivalry with Craig and his friends. Craig was like a mystery to everyone, even his own family. I can figure most people out, but Craig was one person I never really could read. He's never shown emotion, as if he was done with everyone's bullshit from the moment he was old enough to comprehend the world. He seems to enjoy flipping people off, though. His whole family does, really.

Craig has always been somewhat popular. All the girls love his "badass attitude" and all the guys envy him for getting girls so easily. Despite this, Craig has always been friends with the same three people; Clyde Donovan, Tweek Tweak, and Token Black.

Craig's hair is jet black, his skin is as pale as a ghost, and his eyes somehow have always reminded me of lightning with the brightness of blue that they possess. He always wear a blue chullo, though, so most people only see his bangs that hang in his eyes.

What was even weirder than seeing him outside of school was the fact that he sat down beside me.

"What brings you here, Tucker?" I ask.

"I should ask you the same thing, McCormick," he says in his typical monotone voice.

"I asked you first," I said, grinning.

"Maybe I was just looking for a place to smoke," he says.

"You can do that at home, liar."

"Fresh air?"

"Tell the truth, Tucker."

"Fuck off," he said, flipping me off.

I laugh and decide to leave him alone about it since I really didn't feel like being punched. Sure, Craig piques my curiousity, but I would not want to piss him off by trying to learn more.

I kick my feet back and forth, eventually gaining momentum and starting to swing. The air was once again biting my face, but I didn't care as much as I had earlier. It felt like I was flying, and before I knew it, I had let go of the chains and flung myself off the swing. My feet hit the ground heavily, shooting a wave of pain through my whole body. I took in a sharp breath, ignoring it.

"Jesus fuck, dude," I heard Craig say.

I turned, puzzled. "What?"

"I thought you were going to break a leg or bust your head open or something." Somehow he was managing to stay monotone while saying this.

"Why? Are you worried or something?"

"No, I just didn't want to be convicted of murder because someone finds my fingerprints here and your dead body there," he says, as if it were an obvious fact.

"They would have to have your fingerprints on file to deduct that," I say. "Then again, you were almost sent to juvie in like middle school for spray painting a middle finger on the building."

"Exactly. They took my fingerprints then."

"Either way, the police in this town are dumbfucks and wouldn't do anything." I sit back on the swing, twisting slightly to face Craig.

"You act like you've experienced this." He raises an eyebrow at me.

I simply shrug. "Maybe I have, maybe I haven't."

He rolls his eyes and stands. "It also seems like you're hiding something. Whatever. I've got to go before my mom bitches at me for being away too long." He starts walking off without saying anymore.

"You know, Tucker, everyone has secrets. It's best not to get involved or you'll reveal your own in the process," I say to his back.

He doesn't turn, but somehow, I can tell that affected him.

I watch him walk away, rocking slowly in the swing. Something in me tells me to follow because something is off, but I ignore it, knowing that Craig is not someone to fuck with. Though, I did become more curious after that encounter.

"Maybe one day I'll decipher the mystery that is Craig Tucker," I mumbled to myself, still staring despite him not being in sight anymore.


	2. The Downfall Begins

_**A/N**_**_: This has gotten a lot more activity than I expected. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed. It always encourages me to update sooner when I see how many people actually like what I've been writing. _**

**_Some of you may have noticed the little line (ー) between time skips. I forgot to edit that out from the rough draft. This time, though, I have fixed that mistake._**

**_With that said, on to the disclaimer!_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

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><p>After my recent death, I had lost track of time and was a day behind, which was why I was highly confused about Karen's worried face when I got home that night.<p>

Karen is the youngest of my family, being two years younger than me and six years younger than my elder brother. She has chocolate brown eyes and hair that's a slightly lighter shade, like my father. She's thin, but healthier than I was at her age. She's as innocent as a girl of fourteen years can be, and it's quite a shock considering our home life and how my brother and I were before we weren't even seven.

"Where were you? You were gone when I got home a few hours ago and it's dark now." She looked as if she were going to cry, which I don't doubt she already had. "Dad went out drinking, and Mom just left the house without an explanation."

I brought her into my arms, and she buried her face in my neck as I stroked her hair. "It's okay. I just lost track of time when I was with my friends." It was a lie that I hated to tell. Lying to Karen was easy, but I rarely could forgive myself for it because she didn't deserve that.

In all honesty, I'd just wandered the town, walking aimlessly, just thinking. I've done that a lot recently.

"Still, I worry," she mumbled, her voice muffled and barely audible.

"I know. But I'm back and we both need to sleep. The weekend isn't forever."

Karen pulled back and looked up at me with hopeful eyes. "Can I sleep with you tonight? You're freezing cold, and the house is already cold enough with winter coming."

"Is that question necessary? You know you're always welcome," I tell her, smiling softly.

"Okay, I'll meet you in your room after I'm ready for bed," she says, darting into her room with a smile on her face.

I went to my room, and changed to a simple black long sleeve with holes in it, not bothering to put pants on since boxers were usually enough.

A few moments later, Karen appeared in a frilly nightgown that she's had for a few years now. It was worn when we got it, but now it just looks a bit pitiful, as with all our clothes.

We went through the same thing we did most nights; wordlessly getting it bed and under the blanket, her getting as close as possible and burying her head in my chest, and me wrapping my arms around her. We probably looked more like lovers instead of siblings.

She was the first to fall asleep, as always, and I eventually began to be lulled by her steady, even breathing.

That night, I awoke, shivering. For a while, I had unsuccessfully tried to sleep. I gave up eventually, and rolled out of bed to grab my phone.

My parents are so oblivious that they never noticed I had one. I didn't use it much, only when I needed it, because phone bills are expensive enough without overusing data.

I opened up Google, and blankly stared at the screen for a few moments. Then, I typed in the word "suicide". I still don't know what compelled me to do this, but this is one of the things that had begun my downward spiral.

Pictures of suicide notes, quotes, people hanging themselves, people shooting themselves, people overdosing, and as I got further, people cutting themselves. A few "get help" pictures appeared, but I ignored them.

I couldn't really wrap my head around the fact that all these people that only had one life, one body, could kill and harm themselves. At the same time, though, I was curious. Somehow, something deep inside me could relate.

I set my phone down and got out of bed, making sure not to wake Karen.

I then ventured through the quiet house and into my parents' room. They still weren't home so I only had to worry about Karen.

A utility razorblade sat on their dresser next to a pill bottle of marijuana. I picked up the blade and held it to the window, examining it under the moonlight. It was clean, most likely new.

I rolled up my sleeve and moved my arm into the moonlight with it. Pressing the blade in, I drug it slowly across the base of my wrist, making a thin, straight line. It burned a little as blood began to form in little red beads. I was mesmerized by it, for whatever reason. I repeated the process a few more times, continuing to make shallow, small cuts on my wrists. I thought about how calm I was. Even if I had experienced death multiple times, even if I had killed myself before, I never thought I would harm myself like this. Yet, I didn't seem to care one bit.

I slipped the blade into my pocket, and moved into the kitchen to clean up. I dabbed the cuts with a paper towel until the bleeding eventually stopped.

After throwing the paper towel into the trash where it wouldn't be seen, I once again examined my skin under the moonlight. It was puffy around the red lines from the cuts.

I rolled down my sleeves after admiring my work, though it wasn't really admiration. I couldn't quite believe I had done that to myself.

Once back into the bedroom, I crawled in bed next to Karen and fell asleep almost instantly. Funny how it helped me sleep.

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><p>I shivered and blew into my hands as I awaited the bus. Kyle, Cartman, and Stan were conversing as usual, but I wasn't really paying attention. I think Cartman was boasting about how much KFC he ate in a minute or something. He's such a pig. I would kill to have as much food as he does. But I happened to get a shitty family that I'm stuck with.<p>

Karen doesn't typically come to the bus stop. She prefers to walk with her friend, Ike. He's Kyle's adoptive brother that's a few years younger, but he's like a child prodigy so he's in her grade.

The bus arrives, and the four of us pile on. We all sit in the back, Stan with Kyle, and me with Eric.

Stan and Kyle create their own conversation, chattering about the TV show that we've been fans of since we were little children. Eric begins to pester me, poking at my ribs and trying to get my attention.

"What do you want, fatass?" I ask, glaring at him.

"One, I'm not fat, it's just muscle," he says matter-of-factly.

I almost snickered at the thought because he used to always say he was just big-boned but now he claims he's all muscle.

"Two, I need to copy your English homework." Of course the lazy fuck didn't do it.

"I didn't do it. Get it from Stan and Kyle," I told him, turning to the window.

"Stupid white trash," I heard him murmur.

I was used to hearing that, so it didn't bother me. It never really has. It used to piss me off sometimes, but other than that, I didn't really care.

It was a short ride to the school, and I made sure I was one of the first off the bus. I didn't want to be near Eric any longer than I had to. He's seriously a dick. When he can't bother Kyle, he bothers me. He feeds off of lowering the self esteem of others.

I made sure my parka strings were tight as I entered the school. Nobody gives much of a fuck about kids wearing hats and hoods while in class and I don't speak anyways so they don't make me take it off to speak clearly.

As I walked through the relatively empty halls, I felt watched. Glancing around, I spotted someone dressed in all blue. Our eyes met briefly, and it was as if I was drawn to him. I began walking alongside him.

"Fuck off, McCormick."

"Is that how you like to start conversations or something?" I ask.

Craig flips me off in response.

"Someone's moody," I commented, chuckling.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing. Can't I simply walk with my pal Craig?"

"Since when are we 'pals'?"

"Geez, you're no fun," I say with a sigh.

"Well then why don't you go bug the other dipfucks you hang out with?"

I put a hand over my chest and said dramatically, "Craig, I'm hurt! How could you say such a thing?"

He rolls his eyes and walks faster, but I keep pace with him.

"Dude, just leave me alone," he said, giving me a look that could kill.

I raise my hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine, have fun killing your lungs," I said as he exited the school to smoke. He always does that. I then turned on my heel to get to first period. Couldn't hurt to be early, right?

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><p>I sat outside the cafeteria at the very back of the school, my stomach growling softly. I didn't see a point in being in there when I had no money for food.<p>

I was alone for once since even the regular smokers ate lunch before coming outside.

After what felt like ages of thinking to myself, the metal door of the cafeteria screeched in protest as it opened.

"What are you doing out here?" Nasally monotone. Craig. Jesus, it's like he's following me.

"No money," I say simply, not bothering to look at him.

I hear him take out a pack of cigarettes and strike a lighter. "Can't you ask your friends?" he asked through the cigarette between his lips.

I shook my head. "If you're going to bombard me with questions, I'll just leave."

"You do the same to me," Craig points out.

"Yes, but I'm joking, you, however, are always serious." I stand and start to walk back into the cafeteria. My legs were frozen through my torn jeans, so this task was a bit hard. I felt a hand wrap around my thin wrist and I instantly flinched away, feeling a bit of a sting where his hand had been.

Craig gave me a puzzled look before saying, "That whole thing about secrets yesterday, what did you mean by it?"

I didn't answer. I simply turned away and went into the cafeteria, afraid he would reach to grab me again.

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><p>Apparently Stan, Kyle, and Eric had planned something so I was left to ride the bus alone. It happens quite often since I started turning them down when they invited me to things. I've just started losing interest in things they do.<p>

As people loaded onto the bus, I sat in my usual seat, running my thumb along the cuts under my sleeve. My mind was still sluggish about the whole incident. More accurately, I knew what I did, but I didn't want to believe what I did.

I sighed and tugged on both of my sleeves to keep them down.

The ride home consisted of me trying to convince myself that I was totally fine, that I wasn't going to do it again, that I didn't need help. The scary part is, I had actually managed to convince myself. If I could convince myself that I was fine, even after my recent suicides and even going as far as self harm, I could only imagine what else I could lie about. After all, it's much easier to lie to others than it is to lie to yourself.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Agh, it's hard to figure out where to end these without dragging the story on or cutting it too short.**_


	3. Death

_**A/N: At this point, you should know that there will almost always be an author's note because I tend to ramble a lot. Skip over this and go straight to the story if you wish. **_

**_Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! In honor of this holiday, I have finished a chapter, and this time, it's longer! I hope all of you had a great Thanksgiving, or just a great day for those of you that may not celebrate it._**

**_Well, it's disclaimer time now._**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, I am simply a fan that has many many ships._**

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><p>Over the course of the next few days, my arms slowly started healing and fading, and I sometimes allowed myself to forget what I did. I couldn't, however, forget any of those images I saw that night. Sure, I'd killed myself, but I'd never seen my body. I usually didn't when I died. I figured it was too tragic for a life so replaceable.<p>

Eventually, our house was completely out of food, which was to be expected of us. We were barely managing to get by on food from our friends at school, anyways. Soon enough, we broke down and decided to risk a beating to steal from our father again who had gone gambling the night before. We hoped he was too drunk to notice his money was missing.

Our parents weren't that abusive to us, really. They hit each other more than they hit us.

I sighed, setting down our father's wallet back down. "Nothing," I whisper to Karen, trying not to wake our sleeping father.

We both slip out of the living room and into mine so we aren't spotted.

"Kenny, we're nearly out of food...You're going to have to start applying for jobs again. Even if you have a bad upbringing, even if you have some sort of reputation, please at least try again," Karen begs, appearing as if she'll cry.

"I was planning to, anyways. They built a convenience store on the edge of town, an Allsup's, I think. They're really desperate to hire, so I already applied for an interview there. Don't worry. We've been through this before, and we still lived." I ruffled her hair and gave her a soft smile. "The interview isn't until a few hours from now, though. I was planning to tell you, but didn't have the right opportunity."

"Come on, then, I'll help you look presentable." She then went to my closet and began sifting through my clothes.

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><p>A couple hours later, I was wearing a clean Terrance and Philip shirt that was a hand-me-down from Kyle, a pair of jeans that Dad never wears anymore and happen to be clean, and my normal boots. For once, my hair had been properly shampooed and combed. Karen also coaxed me into trimming it so that my bangs stayed out of my eyes.<p>

I examined myself in Karen's full-length mirror, and honestly couldn't believe it was me. I typically wore old, worn clothes, and this was quite a drastic change.

After I'd changed, I has instantly pulled on my parka, not wanting Karen to see my wrists.

"You like?" she asked hopefully.

I nodded and kissed her forehead. "Thanks, Karen, I owe you one."

"No, you don't. It's my pleasure." She gave me an innocent smile before lightly placing her small hands on my back and pushing me towards the door, careful not to step on anything.

"The interview isn't for another hour and a half," I protested. It took maybe thirty minutes to get there. What was I going to do for another hour?

"Well then you won't be late. Now, go. Good luck." Karen opened the door and light pushed me out, quickly shutting the door, quietly so as not to wake my parents. I heard the lock click into place shortly after.

Sighing, I stepped off the front porch. I kicked a broken bottle for a few feet until I reached the train tracks.

The train didn't run anymore. I'd gotten ran over as a kid, and the routes changed despite no one remembering that I was killed. Now the train tracks just symbolize the separation between my family and everyone else. Our side is dirt and melting snow; their side is bright green grass with piles of snow. Our side has broken cars and beer bottles; their side has working, practically brand new cars, and clean grounds. Our side had our old, one-story house that was falling apart; their side had two-story houses that had been remodeled and repainted to look just as new as when they were built. Our side contained only us, the white trash; their side had people with normal families, normal lives, and happy children that had never gone a day where they had to fend for theirselves just to get a little meal.

I listened to the soft crunching of snow beneath my feet as I left the residential area, spotting all the little differences that I'd known ever since I was little. I've known for as long as I can remember that I'm different. My whole family is, really. Of course, I'm the only immortal one.

Within fifteen minutes I was nearing the edge of town. As I traveled, I couldn't help but notice the traffic. I assumed tourists were going to Denver. That was usually the only reason we had traffic.

I bit my lip, a dreadful feeling settling over me. I took a deep breath, telling myself that nothing bad would happen. I told myself that I would absolutely not let myself get hit my another goddamn semi-truck. But, of course, I have terrible luck.

I patiently waited on the crosswalk to say I could cross. Once I could, and the sign was already out of sight, it changed. As expected, a semi seemingly comes out of nowhere with a dumbfuck texting and driving, and going over the speed limit on top of all that.

I take a deep breath, staring at it as it advances at such a fast rate that I know I can't avoid it. I prepare for the bone-crushing impact, the sound of most of my bones breaking all at ones, the seemingly slow process of bleeding out as people around me scream and call an ambulance. But it never comes. Instead, I feel an impact on the right side of my body, the side where the crosswalk I had just come from is.

My body hit the sidewalk a few feet away, barely being missed. The air is knocked out of me, but it is still nothing compared to the feeling of what could have happened.

I glance up, blinking a few times at the noirette above me. I don't recognize who it is at first. My mind only registers their jet black hair and pale skin. Then I notice their lightning blue eyes. There's only one person who could have those eyes.

"Craig?" is all I manage to choke out. My voice sounds weak, almost childish, compared to his shouting.

"Dude, are you fucking crazy?" he practically shouts, the monotone almost dissipating from his voice.

Still dazed, I don't answer. Instead, I glance around us. We're the only two in the area. So it was either die or somehow be saved. God only knows how Craig had managed to save me.

"Are you even listening?"

I turn my gaze back to him and shake my head.

He sighs and stands up, offering me a hand.

I take it, forcing myself up.

"That looked like a suicide attempt..." Did I detect...worry?

"The crosswalk malfunctioned," I mumble, my excuse sounding a bit idiotic when said aloud. I thought about it and determined that it really could have been a suicide attempt as much as it could have been a coincidence. I began to wonder if my mind was playing tricks on me, if I really had crossed too early to get hit, knowing what would happen.

"What are you doing so far from your house anyways?" he asks.

"I'm looking for a job," I say, though now my somewhat presentable appearance now looks scuffed and probably a bit bloody in some places since I felt vague stinging in some places on my body.

"At the new convenience store?"

I simply nodded in response, assessing my injuries and condition of my clothing.

"That explains why you're dressed differently today." He paused a moment, examining me. "You're a strange one, McCormick. It's like you're almost disappointed that I saved your ass." I didn't respond, earning a sigh from him. He shakes his head and turns to walk away.

"Craig?" Once again, my voice seems childish.

He turns, one eyebrow raised.

"Thank you...Um, do you mind if I tag along? Karen locked me out of the house and I have nothing to do until my interview time."

He shrugs. "Wouldn't that be a rhetorical question with you? You don't ever leave me alone, even when I ask, so why are you so timid about it now?"

"I dunno. I mean, you did just save my life, so I guess I owe you the favor of not bothering you. If not that then at least another favor." At this point, I was lying through my teeth. I just didn't want to be alone. I knew my life was worthless considering I could just come back after I died. If it weren't for Karen depending on me to get this job, I would have found some other way to die. After all, even I can't cheat death when it's inevitable.

"Fine, you can help me pick up a delivery for Tweek Bros." Tweek Bros. was the local coffee shop that put mysterious ingredients in their coffee. How do I know this? They used to pick up deliveries from the renters that made a meth lab in our garage.

"Better than nothing," I said with a shrug.

He began walking without another word, and I followed, not bothering to continue conversation.

Eventually, we reach a place that's just outside of town with various semi-trucks full of various things. I cringed, noticing the logo on them was the same logo of the trucks that almost always hit me. I either have extremely bad luck or God just wants me to die for whatever reason.

Craig led me to a truck full of cardboard boxes. Not very far from it were some guys using a very poorly constructed pulley system to move seemingly heavy pieces of scrap metal.

"We only need about five, so just grab two, and I'll get the other three," he commands.

"You act like I'm some sort of weakling," I say, crossing my arms.

"You're skin and bones, I'm surprised I didn't break one of your bones while trying to save you. Now suck it up and let me at least try to be nice." He glares at me.

I scoff. "You, Craig Tucker? Nice?"

He flips me off, and picks up a stack of boxes. I follow his lead, picking up the remaining amount needed despite still wanting to prove my strength.

Just as we were leaving, I hear, "Hey, kid, watch out!" but I couldn't react in time. Those guys had dropped something and it fell right on top of me. I heard the loud crack of my ribs, smelled the blood beginning to pool, and felt the breath being knocked out of me.

Craig knelt down beside me, asking if I could hear him or something, I'm not really sure. The pain was overwhelming.

I looked away from Craig and to someone who was calling an ambulance. Useless.

Craig turned my head back to him, tapping my face a few times as if that would prevent me from slowly bleeding out. I knew he was just trying to keep me awake, but my eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, and fighting impending death was something even I couldn't do, so I simply waited on death.

A few painfully slow minutes later, the loud blare of an ambulance could be heard, but my vision had already gone black, and my heart soon stopped.

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><p>Coughing, sputtering, numb, I was once again alive and in my bed. It was midnight according to my clock. Damn, I missed the interview.<p>

_What did Karen think when she didn't see me come home?_, I wondered.

I got out of bed, forcing myself to move. I felt heavy, as if someone had placed a two ton weight on me. It was as to be expected, though. I slowly moved to Karen's room, and peeked in. She was asleep, and I sighed in relief. I was glad I wouldn't have to deal with lying to her yet.

I then went back to my room, and opened the small drawer beside my nightstand, pulling out the blade I had stashed from

a few days before.

A twisted grin crossed my face as I brought it to my skin, going over where I had cut before. All the cuts were now gone since I had died, and my body was renewed. Not even scars were left.

The first few cuts weren't felt, but my body soon began getting feeling as I watched more blood form with each cut. After I had feeling, I put it away. Something in the back of my head was telling me that that had somehow helped, but how it helped, I do not know.

I went through the same cleaning process as last time, and then laid back in bed as I had before. The only difference this time is that I didn't sleep. I simply stared at the red, puffy skin on my pale wrist, waiting on morning's first light. Nighttime seemed infinite, but in reality, the sun rose soon, and I had had one of the sleepless nights that I felt I would soon become accustomed to.


	4. More Secrets

**_A/N: This is a kind of sucky _****_chapter, but I needed to update. Since I'm a professional procrastinator, if I didn't update now, I probably would never update. I actually got aro_****_und to this surprisingly early, as well. I wasn't really expecting to update again until around Valentine's Day._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

* * *

><p>I was exhausted the next day when Karen forced an explanation from me.<br>"They mixed up my interview time, and then mine ran late." It was a stupid lie, but it worked.

"Don't worry me like that again," Karen said with a pout.

"I won't, kiddo. Now, go get dressed before we miss the bus."

She nodded and scampered off.

Once Karen was out of earshot, I sighed in relief. It worked. I would still have to fake a phone call about my application being declined, unless I somehow got lucky, and they called to tell me I miraculously got the job. Doubtful, but one can only hope.  
>"You've got five more minutes," I called to Karen as she darted through the room a few minutes later.<p>

"I need help with my hair, Ken," she complained.

I walked into the living room and fell back on to the couch. She sat on the floor in front of me and handed me her hair brush. Back when my mom used to care, she taught me a lot about hair. So, I often did Karen's even though she's fourteen now.

I managed to fit her thick hair into my hand and began brushing the knots and tangles out from bottom to top so it wouldn't make even more of a mess. Once I finished, I quickly braided it, tied it, and ran to the door.

We had two minutes to get to the bus stop in the residential area. I figured I should make a game out of it. "Race you to the bus stop." I grinned mischieviously, throwing my bag over my shoulder and swinging open the door, knowing she'd follow.

As expected, she was soon tailing me and we made it just in time to board the bus. Karen sat up front with her friends while I went to the back with mine.

Per usual, Kyle and Stan sat together, leaving me to sit with Eric. I tugged on my sleeves and plopped down next to him.

"Kenny, can I copy your algebra?" Eric asked, knowing Kyle nor Stan would give in.  
>I rolled my eyes. It was a stupid question. I made C's in practically every class. I don't do the work because I see no point. That, and most things taught in school make no sense to me. "Kenny, are you even fucking listening?"<p>

I must've zoned out a bit from lack of sleep because Eric was pissed that I ignored him. "It's a no to both questions," I said.

"Whatever, I don't need you anyways," he mumbled.

Soon enough, we arrived at the high school and everyone piled off the bus.  
>I gave Karen a quick hig before she ran off with her friends to do whatever girls her age do. Maybe makeup or something.<p>

As I crossed the overgrown lawn known as our school's courtyard, I felt someone staring. Becoming paranoid, I looked around. Only one person's eyes met mine. They were electric blue, and conveyed a mix of confusion and relief. It was Craig. He was surrounded by his friends, though, and no matter how much he did or did not want to confront me about whatever he was staring at me for, he couldn't break away from them.

"Jesus, what is with Craig?" I mumbled, entering the school to wait for morning classes to start.

* * *

><p>I was the last to leave as usual. Karen had made plans with a friend, so she wasn't with me. She said she was going to the mall or something and would be back that night.<p>

The soft sound my boots made on the tile floor of the school echoed through the halls, and another pair soon joined.

I turned to see Craig behind me, prepared to speak his mind, and that he did. "How the flying fuck are you alive? You died yesterday."

I raised a brow, and feigned confusion. "Really? How could that be so since I'm here now and perfectly alive."

"Black magic? Hell, I dunno, but the fact is is that you died yesterday. You were impaled by scrap metal, and died before the ambulance arrived."

"Are you sure this isn't some morbid dream of yours?" I yawned. After falling asleep in class, I'd gotten about an hour of sleep. That added to my time spent dead, was quite a lot of time I missed.

He shook his head. "Stop lying about this."

"I'm not lying. It's clear I'm not dead." I poked his cheek and grinned. "See? Both of us are alive."

Rage flickered in his eyes and I was suddenly pushed into the lockers. Not hard, but enough to shock me. Pain shot through my wrists, but I ignored it, frozen in place by images running through my mind.

Nine times out of ten, when I'm pinned to a wall, I'm about to get my ass beat by my intoxicated father. I'm not talking about the normal kind where the most that happens is a leather belt to the ass. No. My father is much more harsh when he hits me. In his blind rage, he'll kick and punch wherever he makes contact. He doesn't care about killing me either. My parents aren't exactly conscious of my immortality, they just know I'm the odd child, and use that as an excuse.

It started after my elder brother moved out and practically disappeared from existance. Since I protect Karen, I'm his one and only target when his fights with mom aren't enough. As much as she tries to defend me, mom can never match his strength when he's going all-out on me.

So, naturally, the look on Craig's face and his grip on me what immensely frightening. I knew it was just Craig, though. I'd gotten in fist fights with him before. Just something about being pinned to a wall with a question being repeatedly asked of me made the situation seem so much different. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at Craig, my cerulean eyes meeting his electric blue ones.

"Don't dig too deep or you'll regret it. Secrets are secrets for a reason. I've warned you of this last week," I said, glaring. Then, I pushed him off me and walked away, leaving him to stare at my backside in confusion.

"Maybe you're right, but I won't stop until I have answers." It was quiet, barely audible from my distance, which made me think it wasn't really meant for me to hear.  
>On the walk home, our encounters over the past week replayed in my head. Craig hadn't really talked to me since middle school, and now that I saw him at the park that one day, he's been speaking to me a lot more, asking questions. It was strange.<br>He said he wanted answers, and I began thinking of how he'd react if he got what he wanted. I'd put up a fight of course. I literally take my secrets to the grave.

But maybe my world is finally opening up. Maybe God was finally giving me a chance at living outside of isolation. I mean, even my own family and so-called best friends don't recall any of my deaths, but suddenly Craig can?

I sighed, my breath swirling into the cold air as I crossed the train tracks. I told myself I should stop thinking about it, but the feeling carried into that night, eating at me.

If it hadn't been for my lack of sleep, I would have probably thought myself to death overnight. So, I fell asleep around ten.

The next day carried on as usual. Boring classes with a lunch break in between. As of late, lunch was quite interesting for me, and that day lived up to the same expectation.

I leaned against the wall at the very back of the school building, staring at the sky, nothing particular in mind since I'd decided that thinking of Craig's words would get me nowhere.

Footsteps crunched on the snow, breaking the peaceful silence. I turned to see who was approaching. Speak of the devil.

He spoke first, "I would say that I came to apologize about yesterday, but I'm not sorry. Why? Because I know you have a deep secret I've gotten involved in, and I still want to know more."

I rolled my eyes. "Wow, thanks."

"I really came to offer you a job."

I raised an eyebrow. "Continue."

"I heard Karen talking to her friends about last night. She said you got a call about being declined a job you applied for, and that you're desperate for money again. So, how would you like to work at Tweak Bros. with me?"

"What's the catch?"

"What? I can't be nice."

I laughed. "Nope. We've already gone over this before."

He rolled his eyes. "Is that a yes or no to my offer? Answer before I change my mind and tell Tweek to find someone else."

"I have no choice, so yes, I'll work at Tweak Bros. When do I start?" I was almost one-hundred percent sure he was setting me up for more answers, but fuck, I needed the money.

"After school. We can walk together." With that said, Craig lit a cigarette and walked away.

* * *

><p>The little bell above the door twinkled, signalling our entrance. Mr. Tweak greeted us with his overly cheery voice as Craig led me behind the counter.<p>

"First off," he reached out and pulled my hood down, "I need to see your face and understand you. Now, I know you have a tongue piercing, but don't worry about taking it out." He tapped his lip where the two piercings lay side by side. "I keep mine in as well. As for your hair, as long as it's out of your face, no one really cares since no health inspectors come by. Today, you'll be observing. No pay. Tomorrow will be your first day of actually working and I'll teach you as you work."

"Right, right. I know the drill. I'm used to the 'Kenny should be seen and not heard' thing," I said.

He raised a brow at me but went to the register anyways, taking orders and brewing coffee. I estimated that he'd worked there for a long time, especially since he was close to Tweek.

The room gradually got hotter as hours ticked by, and I wanted so badly to take my parka off, but I couldn't because I didn't want my wrists to be seen.

"Aren't you hot? Just take off your jacket, dude," Craig said, noticing my discomfort. He shucked his not even an hour after he started working since the heater worked quite well.

I shook my head. "I-I'm fine." _Damn, I stuttered._

He looked suspicious for a moment, but went back to work.

When I thought it would never end, Craig finally said I could go home because Mr. Tweak would be back soon to help close up. It was eight o'clock by then, and I was hot and bored out of my mind.

"See you tomorrow," I said simply before escorting myself home.

Once I arrived, I entered silently only to be greeted by an angry Karen.  
>"Where were you?" she asked, glaring.<p>

"Helping out at Tweak Bros. They offered me a job last minute, and I took it," I explained, thankful I didn't have to lie.

She sighed. "I'm just glad you're okay. Mom and Dad are out drinking again so I've been here worried sick."

"Sorry, kid. I'll let you know my work schedule once I find it out. Until then, expect me home around nine or ten."

"Fine, fine. You're nearly seventeen, so I doubt you would've asked my permission to go out anyways. I'm over it." She looked me up and down. "Sleep. Now. Your dark marks under your eyes are darker."

"I was just about to go to bed. I'm exhausted." It was true. Something about sitting in a coffee shop and not being able to drink coffee made me sleepy.

"G'night," Karen said. "I'll be up a while. I've gotta finish a book for English."  
>I nodded, mentally eliminating the idea of taking that razorblade out again.<p>

Once I laid down in bed, I fell asleep pretty quickly, only to be woke up at around midnight by my phone buzzing. The caller ID showed that it was Eric. Great.

"Hello?" I answered, reluctantly.

"Kyle just said he saw you at Tweak Bros. today. What the fuck were you doing with those fags there?"

Of course Kyle and Eric were speaking so late at night. Kyle studies into the wee hours of the morning and Eric likes to give him shit as he does so.

"Dude, why call now?" I asked groaning. "My job doesn't even fucking concern you."

"Whatever, dude. I just wanted to remind you that this is the same kid that mysteriously disappeared for a semester in eighth grade. Watch your ass."

"Bye, Eric. Don't call again," I said in a bitter-sweet tone as I hung up, not wanting to hear more of his bullshit.

Though, it did call up a memory. Nobody knew what happened at that time, not even Craig's friends. I don't think anyone even knows now.

Craig Tucker really does have more secrets than I could ever imagine. Then again, I have my fair share of them too.


End file.
